Red Light District
by Me And My God Complex
Summary: Illegal trades of drugs and poison and weapons, underground markets, strip clubs and whore houses. This is in essence the pleasure district of Central City, more commonly known throughout Amestris as the 'Red Light District'. And Ed can't get away from it
1. Chapter 1

_**Red Light District**_

_**by Me And My God Complex**_

_**This is inspired by 'Shatterglass' which is an awesome book by Tamora Pierce. I have never been to a strip club, so some things may be off. Cough. NA di don't own FMA.**_

_**X.O.X.O.X**_

"**_How the mighty have fallen on wings of darkness, leaving the weak and foolish on wings of light."_**

_**X.O.X.O.X**_

_**The sultry rolls, eloquent thrusts, the breath taking and passionate experiences. Male on male, female on female, male on female. French and butterfly kisses, falling upon each other, a never ending experience of lust. Hot nights, plenty of well-placed gropes. Flesh sold by the pound without a care for human rights, flashes of skin, given willingly or not. Illegal trades of drugs and poison and weapons, underground markets, strip clubs and whore houses. This is in essence the pleasure district of Central City, more commonly known throughout Amestris as the 'Red Light District'.(1) A place of legal prostitution and much more. **_

_**People of every race, culture religion and background travel from the four corners of the World to visit the Red Light District, placed just on the outside of Central. It's fame has gone as far as the winds, traversing barren landscapes to populated cities. When a teen or so runs away, most seek fortune in this pleasure district. By far the largest (and perhaps only) district as such, one knows that upon reaching the red lights which give the area it's name that you have found the biggest tourist attraction in Amestris.**_

_**Mostly the authorities do not bother with the crimes and problems of the Red Light. There's too many to count. Catch one drug dealer and two feet away some one will be buying cocaine. Even a stripper or two could turn up dead and frankly, the police wouldn't care much. Just fill out some forms, and go worry about something in the 'healthier' areas of the city. People in the Red Light's are treated no better than animals, which is mostly correct because it's inhabitants lose their humanity to survive. If you can't knife a certain person, steal a certain thing, do a certain job, you're better off ending it quickly. No one wants to starve to death or get stabbed in the back in the lonely and cruel streets, where you'll just get picked up by 'Body Collectors' who's jobs are worth more than your life. **_

_**No one cares.**_

_**Of course, you may ask why some one would choose such a life. The answers as a high a number as the crime rates. Running away, getting kicked out, escaping from the law, out for a good time, poverty, war. The list goes on and on, written over the many faces of the Red Light's occupants. They put on a cheerful facade, to please owners, masters, bosses and customers.**_

_**It's a cheap way to get money, drugs, alcohol, a good time. It's like moths to a flame, glimmering in the darkness and drawing the attention of the poor souls. The Red Light District is over glorified; it's filth is swept under the carpet by people hastily trying to clean up for unexpected guests. **_

_**No presentable person will sully themselves with the vermin attached to Central called Red Light's.**_

_**This is the unwritten rule which the 'higher' social classes follow. Break it, and there will be the unsaid shame on everyone's faces. It will all be silent, a silent yet taunting punishment. Silent, forced to struggle in your own. Have you ever screamed to have no one hear? Have you ever bled and not had anyone help? The Red Light District is a silent world.**_

_**But, enough doom and gloom. Maybe we should nip on down to a tea parlor and have some Earl Grey. Heard it's quite delicious actually. But first, Edward Elric must be introduced.**_

_**After six years of sweat, blood and grime, the Elric brothers managed to achieve their end which is the Philosopher's Stone. The details on it's recovery are unknown, but at least no civilizations were wiped out, one could tell you that. Using it's alchemy enhancing powers and ability to bypass Equivalent Trade, Alphonse Elric was returned to his body (he's now a handsome seventeen year old with long, dirty blond hair and silver-blue eyes) and Edward Elric gained back his limbs. **_

_**Shortly before retrieving what had been lost to him, Edward quit his military position, like he always said he would. The eighteen year old then faded into obscurity with his brother, telling no one where they went. They disappeared without a trace; it was like they never existed at all. People in Resembool thought him to be in Central, and people in Central (mostly the militarists) thought them to be in Resembool. No one checked up on the two brothers, wanting to give them their privacy.**_

_**Little did they know that Edward and Alphonse were indeed in Central, but of course in the Red Light District. Alphonse is weak, and collapses if he strains his body too far, side effect of it remaining in the Gate for over six years. So he spends much time in bed with occasional, small workouts, laughing and chatting with Summer, a room mate chosen for her trustworthiness and ability to care for Alphonse Elric. Edward Elric was another matter. Forced to find enough money for himself, Summer and his brother, he was hard strained to find work. Leaving Alphonse alone was not an option; he's get raped, robbed or killed faster than one could snap your fingers. So Summer came into ploy. And Summer couldn't work because she was busy caring for Alphonse, whom she regarded as a brother.**_

_**That left it all on Edward's slim shoulders. So he got the best, highest paying job he could: work as a stripper at 'Pleasure Pulse', a rather classy strip club. It accepted other genders, so Edward found no trouble finding work there under the name 'Cookie', with chocolate-brown eye contacts to boot. He really had no wish to be discovered as the 'Full metal Alchemist' working at a strip club. So dignity shot and skinned, he wore the sluttiest outfits possible and worked his stuff. Which, he discovered, he was a natural at. (Which disturbed the teen to no ends.) **_

_**How the mighty have fallen on wings of darkness, leaving the weak and foolish on wings of light.**_

_**X.O.X.O.X**_

"Brigadier General, sir!" Lieutenant Colonel Havoc saluted stiffly as he faced Brigadier Roy Mustang, Flame Alchemist, who was doodling on a notepad. His onyx eyes jerked up to land on the smoker's face, and he gave the younger man in uniform a questioning and annoyed look.

"What is it?" Snapped the black-haired officer, one hand running through his silky hair. (2) The blond shifted nervously, handing over the manila folder with it's pertaining information.

"Another murder, sir. Sam Vants, age twenty-eight, female stripper, found dead in the Central Square's fountain." It was the ninth of a long string of murders occurring all over Central, all the men and women from the Red Light's District found in public places all across the 'clean' part of the city. Normally, the higher military personnel wouldn't be involved in such things, but all the murders were done by a rogue alchemist who had yet to be identified. The bodies were found in similar condition to that of Scar's victims, but Mustang knew Scar to be dead. He'd killed the Ishvarlan himself.

So the question was, 'Who and Why?' Strippers ((working as strippers was the only thing that linked the victims, apart from location of work)) didn't have much to offer, and weren't too important. Who'd bother attacking them?

As Mustang read over the documents, he continued his conversation with his subordinate. "Another one? It's only been a week since the last. Our serial killer's been busy." The man idly flicked over the page, reading the information which was the exact same for each victim. "Occupation: Stripper at 'Pleasure Pulse'."

"Same as all the others. The higher ups aren't too happy about this either. The last page has your orders, sir." Havoc tapped his cigarette in the ashtray on the Brigadier General's desk, which he used to burn papers and such on. Roy wrinkled his nose slightly in disgust, but was to captivated in his instructions to scold Haovc.

"They're saying that some one shall be sent in undercover to catch our killer." This caused the other men in the office to wince apprehensively: Breda, Falman, Havoc and Fury felt no desire to start stripping.

"Who shall it be, sir?" Liza Hawkeye, who had just entered with a new stack of paperwork, had caught the Brigadier General's conversation. She set the papers unceremoniously on Mustang's desk, standing stiffly next to Havoc so she could hear the information.

". . . Brigadier General Roy Mustang, Flame Alchemist, shall be chosen to work undercover at 'Pleasure Pulse' because of his alchemy abilities, body and good looks." The sourness in Roy's voice was completely evident. His subordinates all gaped at their boss, even Hawkeye. General Hakuro had called Roy Mustang 'good looking with as nice body'? What the hell?

That wasn't all. The man continued, disgust etched into his handsome face. "At fifteen hundred hours, an instructor will come in to teach Brigadier General Mustang the certain aspects needed to join 'Pleasure Pulse'."

". . ."

". . . . ."

". . . . . . ."

Hawkeye finally broke the silence, gaze dropping on the face of the clock which hung on a wall. "It's fifteen hundred hours now, sir. you instructor shall be in soon." As if summoned, a light knocking could be heard on the oaken door. Falman, being the closest, opened it to reveal a brown haired, green eyed man who carried an air of seduction like a cloak. He strode inside, eyes falling on his 'student' immediately.

"I'll ask for the others to leave please stand to the side. And don't leave: your boss here needs to be able to perform in front of an audience." His voice was brisk yet smooth. He walked with a slight twitch of his hips, which was probably something you couldn't shake, on or off the job.

"Who are you?" While his subordinates complied to the stranger's orders, Mustang simply fixed a steely gaze on the intruder. He wasn't happy at all about this new assignment.

"Your instructor for the next couple days. Name's Rodney. But my stage name is Mushroom. Don't ask: my boss was on crack when I got assigned that name. Now come here: I have to see you in full." There was something about Rodney's tone that reminded the man of Hawkeye, so he obediently climbed to his feet. Who knew. Maybe if he caught the killer a promotion would be awarded. There was rumors that General Hakuro was just going to retire after catching the murderer, leaving his position up for grabs. Mustang wanted to grab it.

"They were right. You have a nice body. Now take off your shirt, and I'll teach you a couple moves." Rodney positioned himself in the center of the room, and indicated for the alchemist to follow suite. All Roy did though was stare in disbelief.

"Take off my shirt?" Roy repeated stupidly, massaging one temple with an annoyed look on his face.

"Yup. And do it fast; it's what you're here to learn, after all." Rodney gave him an expectant look, and slowly, feeling more embarrassed by the moment, made his way next to the stripper. Then, in a smooth, practiced gesture, he removed his military uniform then the white shirt underneath. he was still hoping this was a dream. He'd had similar dreams before, but they weren't this. . . GAY. Normally it was some hot chick, not a guy, telling him to remove his shirt, and he was at home, not work.

"You're a natural." Purred Rodney. Flashing the horrified Mustang a grin, he placed his hands on the man's waist. "Now, let's get started on some other moves, shall we?"

Roy Mustang swore that day that his giggling subordinates would not be working peacefully after this.

_**X.O.X.O.X**_

When Edward Elric, known as 'Cookie' to his co-workers, walked into Pleasure Pulse his next shift, he could tell something was the matter. The women, who were seated in their preparation room, where the strippers could hang out before and after turns, looked absolutely distressed. The men stood stiffly, some putting comforting arms and hands on the females. A horrible feeling settled in the pit o his stomach: the last time they'd looked like this, which had been a week or so ago, when Vash had been slaughtered by the killer alchemist. Edward wondered who it was this time. Work had become definitely more depressing than usual ever since in the past month strippers from their establishment had started to get knocked off.

"Who was it?" Asked the blond dully as he threw himself on a couch, landing half-way across Tai-Tai, the brown haired, blue eyed teen of nineteen. She was one of his closer friends, which was rather apparent by the fact he let her begin to stroke his hair absently, a stony mask on her face.

"Sammy." This caused Edward to frown angrily. Sammy had been a rather ornery woman who enjoyed chewing everyone out. But Edward also knew she had a five year old back home named Terry, and the little boy didn't deserve to be left motherless.

"What about Terry?" Questioned the alchemist. Fox, a tall, tall man with russet hair and a wicked sense of humor, answered Edward's question. "Dead. Throat slit. Suppose he tried to call for help." Edward tightened his fist. These were times when he still wished he had his State title and could still use it to help protect people. He couldn't now, since he was trying his best to cover up any ties to Edward, submerging himself in Cookie, which meant no alchemy.

"Hey, Goldilocks. You're up." Goldilocks, a man with short, spiky black hair got up, straightened out his outfit, and meandered out. His name was a long running joke among the co-workers. Goldilocks' departure was signal for the rest to head out. Edward tossed away his black coat, and pulled a bit at his tight black pants, 'ooh, sparkly!' drag top, which hung down a bit at the front a back to reveal his chest and back to the lusty customers.

"Time to go kill my innocence a bit more!" Cheered Edward. Some smiles were cracked around the room, as half or so of it's occupants left.

"Dearest Cookie, you're so sweet." Fox clapped a large hand on Edward's back, and he scowled at the man's pun. "That was terrible, Fox." Commented the boy. This got another smile out of Fox, who then rearranged his face into that of a sultry, inviting one all the workers knew and used.

It was a tough job; you had to learn how to pick yourself off the ground and continue on, no mater how bad an event.

_**X.O.X.O.X**_

The last few days had been hell to the normally cool and calm Brigadier General. He had to throw in all his flirtation powers and lustful looks and literally his entire self into his 'training'. It wasn't bad enough that next to totally destroying his decency, but his subordinates were allowed to make comments on how he wasn't 'hot enough' or 'turning them on', which had definitely freaked him out. Mustang had nearly died when Hawkeye had said, face straight as ever, "Sir, I suggest that you show your ass a bit more, unless you want to get turned down."

A LIVING HELL.

But now they were over. Blissfully over. The days had passed quickly, but not quickly enough. Rodney had finally left and not come back, heading back to his club, far far far away. Frankly, 'Mushroom' had been a disturbing experience. He'd kept _touching _Roy and saying he was fabulous at everything for a beginner. It couldn't get much worse. BUT IT WOULD! Now, instead of his shame being at least kept to his office, he was going to flash it off for the whole damnable Red Light's to see.

He had been driven into the district by a very amused Havoc. After threatening to burn and fire (ho ho!) the man more than once, he had been dumped unceremoniously in front of a midnight blue building which read 'Pleasure Pulse' in neon. He wormed past the bouncer who looked like he could take on Armstrong, he found himself in a mostly dim lit room, apart from the spotlights shining on the entertainers.

Mustang had watched them with a sick fascination for a short time, then made his way to the head honchos office. Frank Casher. The name suited the black man who was dressed in a fine suit, grinning widely, his blue eyes glittering behind sunglasses. That was where Mustang stood now, shifting impatiently as he waited for Casher to give him the job.

"So. . . Midnight, I think you look the part, but I have to see if you can act it too. HOODY! I HAVE A NEWBIE FOR YOU!" Mustang had flinched slightly as the large man raised his voice. Geez, was the guy trying to burst his ear drum? A woman came out from an adjoined room, long purple hair and eyes reflecting brilliantly in the light. She was wearing a silver and black outfit which showed a higher percentage of skin than coverage.

"Hey there. I'm Hoody. Here to see if you do well with a crowd." Her voice was low and sultry, and she carried it off without a thought. A purple manicured grasped his hand and hauled him through the door that she came by.

"Who wants to help me test out-what did you say your name was?" Announced Hoody. The last part she threw over her shoulder at Mustang.

"Midnight."

"Who wants to help test out Midnight here. He's rather hunky." There was a slight commotion as the room turned their gaze on Mustang, who had to stop himself from smirking. Yay. A lot of hot women thought he was good looking. At least one good thing was coming out of this. Women.

"I'll help." An extremely tall man with reddish hair stepped forward. Mustang barely contained a horrified look. There was no way he'd do anything of sexual nature near a man. Well, Rodney had been an exception. "So, young Midnight. Let's test out those looks. I think we finally found someone better looking than Cookie!" The bemused strippers tugged Mustang towards a new door. It led onto a brightly lit stage, where a couple poles stood. Roy hated the poles. Their day of training had been most embarrassing.

The alchemist allowed himself to get pushed towards a pole, glad his reflexes stopped him from falling down like an idiot. Grabbing the pole in one hand, he sank into his 'Strip Palace', as he'd lovingly dubbed it. The man found it easier to completely degrade himself if he was in his Palace. DAMN THIS STUPID MISSION! _'Think promotion! Think promotion!'_

The beat picked up, an erotic tune began to pour from the speakers. Mustang did his thing, which the author shall not go into detail about. But when the song ended, he collected some bills, which had been tossed on the raised platform and strolled off-stage. Hoody and Fox both stood there, gabbing about what seemed to be bets on Cookie's real gender. _'I wonder who this Cookie person is that they keep talking about.' _Wondered a confused Mustang. He waved a hand in front of the two, successfully gaining their attention.

"Nice job, Midnight. You must be a natural like Cookie." Again with Cookie. It was driving Mustang up the wall. Fox slung a friendly arm around Mustang's shoulders. "Hoody, you go tell the boss we'll take him. I'll go introduce him to his fellow workers." The purple haired stripper nodded and disappeared through another door. The Brigadier General was feeling rather lost. This building was nothing but doors!

Deciding to put his trust in—what had his name been? Fish? Foxer? Fox? Yes, it had been Fox---he got led through a black, battered door. Somewhere in his hazy memory ((Mustang believed the alcohol fumes had gotten to his head)) the Flame alchemist recognized it as the same door, which led to the room he'd met Fox. It was pretty pathetic, mostly designed for comfort instead of style. Battered couches and armchairs were scattered around the room, on which seated the strippers. The walls were pretty plain, apart from a few pictures of people performing, and the entire group together. A coffee machine rested against the far wall, definitely looking worse for wear.

Mustang liked this even less. Gritting his teeth, he walked into a position where his . . . co-workers. . . could see him.

"Is this a new member to our merry band?" A bald man with too many piercings, dressed in nothing but a pair of tight shorts questioned, light reflecting dully off his bare head. He had a beer bottle in one hand, and took a healthy swig after his question.

"Yes I am. My name is Midnight." Mustang said haughtily. He highly knew that he was above this sort of thing. Chances are his superiors were laughing at him as he stood there. Being forced to work . . . and live . . . in the Red Light District. Mustang dimly remembered that he was living in a shabby hotel not to far from here, meaning that he's be sleeping in a dirty bed instead of the nice, comfy clean one he had back home.

"Hey there! Try not to die, we're getting short on workers, and I'm not getting paid over time." A brown haired teen rose to shake his hand. Chuckles were sweeping the room at the young woman's words, which slightly disconcerted him. Did these people enjoy joking about murdered co-workers? That was sick.

Next thing he knew, the strong grasp of the strange girl had tugged him onto her scantily clad lap. Her free hand, which was not pinning him down began to stroke his hair, which felt rather nice but Mustang wondered vaguely if he was getting molested. He would hate to blow his cover so soon, but he did have a pair of gloves tucked into his boots, seeing as how his black pants were a little toot tight to hide such things. Speaking of his pants, they were riding up his crotch . . .

"Don't worry, she did that to me too. She's not gonna rape you." Roy's black eyes locked on the blond figure which he hadn't noticed as he was being groomed. Blond hair, brown eyes, black outfit. From this angle, Roy couldn't tell if the speaker was male of female.

"And you are?" The soldier raised a black eyebrow elegantly, wondering how his newest conversation companion knew what he had been thinking. Was it because the crazy woman had started petting them too?

"Cookie." The answer delighted Roy, who had been puzzling over who 'Cookie' was.

"I must say, you're very pretty, lady." Commented Roy. He watched from his slightly awkward angle as the assumed woman turned very red in the face and looked like she was about to explode.

"I'm a freaking man, you idiot." Cookie said this so tersely and clipped, Mustang could tell he was suppressing extreme rage. Cookie reminded him of someone, who he couldn't quite put a finger on.

"Well, it's not my fault if you look like one." Replied Mustang, shifting his weight so the leather pants weren't so tight between his legs. "Calling me an idiot is uncalled for." He said this in his best 'I'm Better Than You' voice, and the blond could clearly tell.

"What ever." Sneered Cookie, before pointedly turning his head away from Roy to start up a conversation with Foxy. Or was it Fox. The man couldn't remember.

"So, Midnight, why do you join our little group? Fame? Fortune? By the way, I'm Tai-Tai." Asked the blue-eyed teen stroking Mustang's head curiously. Roy rolled his onyx eyes, mouth opening automatically to deliver the well-rehearsed story.

"Well, me and my darling woman friend are trying to elope, but our families hardly approve, so I, being the wonderful fiancée I am, volunteered to get a job, since I didn't want Liza to work someplace like this." The dark haired man did his best to sound depressed and annoyed. It wasn't an entire lie. Liza Hawkeye had come with him. And she would be living with him. But they weren't engaged (sadly enough).

"She lets you dance half naked on stage?" Apparently Cookie was finished ignoring the 'new kid', and turned back, brown eyes confused. Roy blinked, and let out a sigh.

"She doesn't care, since she knows I love her." While some of the strippers (like Tai-Tai) 'awwed' and others (like Cookie) looked skeptical, Mustang glanced at the clock. "In fact, she'll be stopping by soon."

"Fascinating." Muttered Cookie, looking like he was puzzling over something. He gave the dark haired man a glare, and pointed to the door, which Mustang noted was being knocked on. "Then is that her?"

Hoody, being closest to the door, stood up and pulled it open, in order to reveal a exalted looking Liza Hawkeye, wearing a short pink dress with her blond hair curling around her shoulders. She saw Mustang, and her smile grew wider, something that _definitely_ scared the man.

"Honey! The horrible man wouldn't let me see you, but I convinced him." Roy ignored the shocked look on Cookie's face to cover his own with a grin. He had no idea Hawkeye could pull the dumb blond act off. "And we got a phone call from Janny! He says that your Uncle Gruko is all happy about you leaving."

Roy immediately understood the code. Janny was Havoc, and Uncle Gruko was Hakuro. Apparently the man was glad the Colonel was gone. He smiled and allowed Liza to jump on his lap, maintaining the look of a happy couple. "That's great, darling. Oh. Meet my new co-workers, Tai-Tai, Fox, Cookie and some I don't know." Finished Mustang vaguely, waving an arm around the room.

"Wonderful! It's-" Liza cut off as she stared at Cookie, who shifted nervously under the cinnamon-colored gaze, which was obviously surprised. "Huh..." Liza began, hands dropping dangerously close to Roy's crotch. Silence fell, and it wasn't until Sunshine (a rather bitchy stripper) coughed pointedly that Cookie and Liza stopped having a staring contest.

"Something for you?" Quipped the blond stripper, and Liza immediately did the first thing that came to mind. She swung her arms around Cookie and squealed, high pitched as ever:

"What a cute little boy! Honey-baby, can we adopt him?" Mustang frowned as he stood up, very well aware that Hawkeye had noticed something about the teen that Mustang had overlooked. The sharpshooter wanted to discuss it, that was plain.

"Sorry Liza, I don't think so. Let's go." Mustang didn't really cared if he was required to stay longer. Just being there made him woozy. He had never liked strippers, and being one was quite disgusting. He grabbed Liza and pulled her up, just a tad startled when she practically jumped into his arms.

"Okay honey-baby!" Liza and Roy headed for the door, the dark-haired general just catching Cookie's muttered, "Good riddance." He really did remind Mustang of someone...

Once outside, and away from prying eyes, Roy faced Liza and raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. "Lieutenant, I congratulate. I hardly recognized you." Mustang said, giving a pointed look at Hawkeye, who's face was now serious and no longer bubbly with joy.

"Thank you sir. And I have to say, those were the worst five minutes of my life." Liza replied in her straight-forward manner, and Roy found himself smirking. "Sir..."

"Call me Roy when we're off duty." Mustang paused, recalling an order. "Or Lee, as my name apparently is at the moment." Liza was one of his dearest friends. He knew he could speak normally with her, though it was hard at work. But they pulled through.

"Well, _Lee_, did you notice something odd about that Cookie? Something...familiar?" Liza hesitated with her words, earning herself a confused gaze from the onyx-eyed stripper. (couldn't resist)

"Sort of. Why?" Roy tilted his head curiously as he and she began to walk in the direction of their dingy apartment. Liza sighed, cinnamon orbs keeping an eye out for attackers.

"No reason Roy. No reason at all." They finished the walk in silence, Roy puzzling over her words. This was, by far, the oddest night of his life. Hawkeye in a dress. Him getting a job as a stripper. Meeting someone he recognized but just couldn't remember.

And the oddest thing was, that right at that moment, he thought of the Elric brothers, who had been missing for while. Tilting his head back in order to glance the twinkling stars, Mustang felt a faint tug in his gut of sadness.

_'I wonder where they are now...'_

_**X.O.X.O.X**_

_**Oh yeah..that's right. What should the pairing be, my wonderful reviewers? RoyXRiza or RoyXEd? I don't care either way, just don't suggest EdXWinry or something. And those who are reading my other stories. I currently have a serious problem. My dad deleted my computer account, and that means al my shit disappeared into a black hole of computer-ness, or at least my recent shit. Basically, all my stories I had typed up recently can't be accessed, and I only have some of my old stories ((really weird ones too)).Sorry for the inconvenience.**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Red Light District**_

_**by Me And My God Complex**_

_**Don't own FMA. Who wants Rodney back? And RoyEd won. New OC coming up! I love him!**_

_**X.O.X.O.X**_

"**_I'm going straight to hell for this. I don't care though. I hate waiting in line."_**

_**X.O.X.O.X**_

_**Back again, are we? Really, does this tale interest you that much? For it is not all fun and games, not all humourous situations including the beautiful yet level-minded Liza Hawkeye. There is more to this story than just the passionate blond, Edward Elric dressing in tight leather and 'shaking his moneymakers' as some less cultured may say.**_

_**The murderer still sullies the already dirtied streets, eyes, long pushed past the brink of insanity, watching and waiting. He (though the gender is currently unknown by the militia) executes with well-planned ferocity his sinful crimes. An alchemist is he, one trained enough that an array is enough to end the miserable existence of his prey, and those who attempt to interfere. Remember Terri, barely a child. His throat was slit for his love and loyalty to his mother. **_

_**Voice box slashed, he could not cry out. The life meaning as much as that of a bluebottle fly stuck to flypaper. Even if someone heard...what would it really matter. Over 98 of the population in the Red light would not pay heed, going back to their gambling, sex and drinking. **_

_**'I just wanted to help mama...'**_

_**Innocence is not a sin. Curiosity is not a sin. You would find yourself in tight situations as a child, I am sure, where your childish thirst for knowledge made adults do the ever popular Avoidance. Heaven's Gates will open for those who ask 'Where do babies come from?' though a killer who's last words to his victim are, 'Do you mind if I slice up your son?' will surely be sent straight to the fiery depths of hell, or whatever end comes after death.**_

_**Strippers offend the Catholic idea of how God looks at the world and how He judges his people. Though in Amestris, this religion has long faded out. The only popular religion in fact, among the large country is Ishvarlan beliefs. Does this tie in to the campaign against those of a different race by those who consider them above all with their alchemy?**_

_**But that is beside the point. I should get back to my story, should I not?**_

_**We will pick up the thread of this masterful tale at the point whereupon Edward returns from his shift after the departure of Mustang. He will, as always, walk the streets with familiar ease, confident that he could fight off any attacker, even an insane alchemist. Whether or not his belief in his abilities is sound or not is for you to discover.**_

_**Alas, before I set ourselves down on Twinkling Street, I shall go more in depth with a non-canon part of this play of life. Her name is Summer Winche, current baby sitter and best friend of a one Alphonse Elric, who I assume us to all be familiar with.**_

_**Summer's mother was a Gambling Mistress, or Gana as they are 'affectionately' dubbed. A Gambling Mistress, or Gana, is a woman who wears skimpy dresses and outfits while patrolling casinos like a panther. Hired by the owner, they are there purely for the pleasure of the customers and profit of the boss.**_

_**They do their best to get the people so intoxicated that they slip up on their cards and pour more money into the House, or use their looks and bodies for distraction, with the same results. They are rather well-paid and not required to sleep with anyone unless they want to. Many in the Red Light covet this job above others, but it's hard to get in.**_

_**The woman had been raped. She was kicked off the job once she got swollen and ugly, but still kept a love for the child growing within her. Summer was in fact born in the winter, and her mother named her so because her beautiful baby daughter reminded her of her namesake: Summer. She adored her child. But love cannot feed anyone, or provide shelter. Her mother barely made it with drug dealing until Summer turned six; then her mother perished.**_

_**After an attempted pick-pocketing on a well-dressed teen, Summer was then taken under the wing of said teen, who was older than her by many years. He secured her enough money and paid for a cheap apartment. However, hopes for the future lay in his eyes, and he left for war. Of course, it was a long war, so when she turned twelve, she was sent a letter instead of the normal money which informed her of the death of her kind 'older brother'. **_

_**Summer was distressed, but quickly pushed away the emotion to survive on the streets as a petty thief. It wasn't until her twentieth birthday (on which she was heavily considering full-time prostitution—she had already done it a few occasions, when times were tougher) that Edward took her in, and provided a roof and and food in exchange for looking after his younger brother.**_

_**She is one of the few who know of the brother's true identities, and knows a majority of their past. Do not feel pity and horror at her past, for there are far worst in this district. She is only one of hundreds of orphans. And so, Summer is introduced, and we may continue...**_

_**X.O.X.O.X**_

Edward, contacts still in yet not under the persona of 'Cookie' strolled the street, which led to their shabby apartment, thoughts on the past night. Dawn was just beginning to peak, meaning some of the more horrid activities were being ended for the daylight. However, day time in the Red Light was just as busy as the nights.

"Midnight, huh?" Muttered the blond as he spied his lodgings. "More like Mustang. Does he think he's fooling me? It might of worked, if Hawkeye hadn't come in." A mental image of Liza in a dress popped up, and Edward shook his head in slight fear and exhaustion.

"The real question is, did he recognize me or not?" The young man chewed his lip as he made his way up rickety stairs, having entered his building. "I dunno about Hawkeye, but Mustang looked pretty oblivious. Dumb ass."

Since thoughts on the Flame alchemist brought on unpleasant pangs of sadness, Edward pushed the man out of his head as he used the key to their apartment. As he entered, he made sure to call out, "Summer, Al? I'm back."

He made sure to do so, since Summer was always ready to toss a blade at any unwelcome intruders. Edward had no wish to repeat this experience.

"Hey there my fluffy-wuffy-cuddly-wuddly-huggable-wuggable-Eddy-kins!" Chorused two voices, on e male, the other female, as he shut and locked the door. He turned with a scowl on his face to the two, who were seated on Alphonse's bed

The duo had come up with a fun game to see which name they used would get him to blush. Sadists, in Edward's opinion. "Why do you always do this?" Whined the stripper, hanging up his black coat. he knew better than to drop it on the floor. Last time he'd done it, Summer had Alphonse stitch on a kitty to the back.

"Sorry Brother, but you're fun to mess with." Replied Alphonse cheerfully, going back to embroidering a cat on what looked suspiciously like one of the elder brother's boxers. "Have a nice time at work?" Asked Alphonse, eying the 'ooh, sparkly' drag top he'd chosen himself. He was, in fact, in full support of his brother's job.

"Yah. Great. Mustang is working there. Nothing interesting." Answered Edward, flopping onto a battered and torn cough with a sigh of relief. He would go to sleep after catching up with his younger brother.

"Mustang?" Asked Summer, confusing in her hazel eyes. "Isn't he your old commanding officer?" She blinked in surprise, Alphonse mimicking their actions. Edward shrugged.

"He and Hawkeye. I have no idea why." He answered, eyes drifting shut for a second as he fought the desire to sleep. Summer shook her head, picking up a blanket to cover Edward with.

"Go to sleep." She ordered. The blinds and curtains were already closed, and she made her way back to her bed. The trio were nocturnal, sleeping days and living the nightlife. It was not an uncommon pattern to be witnessed in the Red Light, meaning they weren't too worried about being awoken from too loud members of the apartment complex.

And so the occupants began to nod off, Alphonse staying up just enough to finish the felines whiskers, dropping the boxers as he passed out from exhaustion. All was silent.

_**X.O.X.O.X**_

Roy and Liza, too hyped up on coffee and planning a scout for the killer (guess who for each reason) didn't go to sleep upon reaching their dumpy little motel. Liza had changed into a more comfortable black skirt and jacket. Currently, the alchemist was planning his outfit for the next night, and the sharpshooter was helping through her natural woman's instinct for stripper's fashion.

"Roy, that top will be hard to pull off for a beginner. The sequins might catch." Commented Hawkeye, straightforward as ever. "Go for the beaded one. It will show off your nipples." Sometimes that very same straightforwardness made Roy go pink.

He tried said top, marveling at the fact that this was the first time he'd worn nothing but boxers in the same room as a hot woman. Too bad this woman was First Lieutenant Liza Hawkeye, who would never date Roy. Ah well. There were plenty more fish in the sea.

The dark haired man would deny ever thinking of men along with his usual collection of woman that day, as he gave a fashion show to the blond who was daily threatening him with a gun.

Ahh, the way life works, the fickleness of the human actions...

"Perfect." Announced Liza, before smiling gently. "Now, why don't you get some sleep? I already did last night. I'm going to go look for anyone suspicious." Roy flopped down on the cheap mattress, having taking off his beaded top. He raised an eyebrow at the blond.

"Liza, it's the Red Light District. What isn't suspicious?" The man asked, amazed, squirming in order to get comfortable. The woman rolled her eyebrows as she checked one of her guns. She offered no answer before setting out.

After the final click of the door, Mustang buried his head under a pillow, trying to get comfortable on the stiff mattress. All his beds at home were big, fluffy soft ones. And Roy tended to sleep naked. He was going to have a hard time adjusting.

"Damn that killer. Couldn't he go get hit by a car?" Roy growled into the pillow, onyx eyes shutting as he began to lull off to dreamland.

_**X.O.X.O.X**_

Liza Hawkeye was all business as she wandered the winding and twisting streets. They were small, and were only populated by foot traffic. Only the four main streets of Karnon (on which Pleasure Pulse was located) Xenon, Frigoli and Jarnston were wide enough to encompass cars, while the remaining roads were only to be walked on.

If it weren't for how sullied the district was, it could be picturesque. Many of the buildings had been for nearly a century, with faded fronts and worn out stoops. The cobblestone roads were adorable, despite the random bloodstains and other fluids.

Liza walked with care, cinnamon eyes keeping a sharp lookout for anybody who looked remotely suspicious. She blinked as she surveyed Lambstrong Street. Scratch that. Anything suspicious for alchemy. It was well-known that the Red Light boasted the largest supply of illegal alchemy books, and other things for the science that no decent alchemist would use.

As the lieutenant sat down on a large plant the had some sort of small tree growing out of it, she considered what was known of the murderer. He (the assumed gender in a tad-sexist world) used alchemy of some sort to make his victim's heads explode, and the rest of their body bubble then explode, covering the stripper in blood. There was only two known alchemists who could pull that off, Scar and Kimblee, but they were both dead.

He probably lived in the Red Light, was strong enough to grab his prey, and stalked his prey for a few days before killing them. This was known through the fact that the co-workers of the dead mentioned how the victim felt like they were being watched.

Once he was done killing his victims, he disposed of them in market squares and such in the 'cleaner' part of Central. Always public places. And, for some reason, places where people sold things from stalls. Never any other public place. It wasn't very much to go on, but the killer was secretive, quick and deadly.

"Hell-o there missus." Liza was brought back from her thoughts when a scruffy man who wearing, oddly enough, a top hat that looked rather used. He gave her a charming smile, tipping his bowler hat to her. "Are ya looking for someone?"

Liza gave him a look somewhere between a glare and a glance of confusion. "And you are?" She asked, hand in her lap shifting slightly so she could pull out her gun if needed. But the top hat-man was not to be deterred, and sat down next to the woman.

"Rio Samuels, missus. I just thought you looked mighty lonesome." Rio explained, giving her another one of his charming smiles that could dazzle Roy's. From her position, she could see his shoulder-length, shaggy hair was dark, probably black, although it might simply be dirty, and his eyes were a light blue. He reminded her an awful lot of Mustang.

"Are you trying to flirt with me?" Asked Liza, giving him a distrustful look. Rio chuckled, smiling down at the blond. Putting one hand on his chest, he mocked a look of fake horror, eyes twinkling in amusement.

"How could you think that of me." He cried, obviously amused. Liza watched people ignore them as they passed by, obviously used to weird sights in the Red Light. Rio immediately became serious, giving her a sly look. "Though I suppose you're suspicious. You're looking for a killer after all, missus Liza Hawkeye."

Her head, which had dropped a bit with her guard, shot up. Her whole body stiffened as she glared at the man, one hand wrapping around her gun. She was prepared to draw it any second as her cinnamon eyes pinned Rio down. "How did you know my name?"

"A little birdie told me, missus." Answered Rio, who hardly looked bothered under her glare. He just sat there, completely nonchalant, fingers wined together as he watched her expectantly. Liza did not falter, however confused she was from his reaction.

Whipping one of her guns out, she held it against his temple. There was only mild interest among the civilians, who would probably just stand by if she splattered his brains against the sidewalk, then return to their daily business. "Tell me, or I will be forced to take action." It wasn't a simple threat. She was honestly scared that this man knew her name, since she was rather undercover. In fact, the name she'd used to book the hotel was Liza Simpson.

"If you were to kill me, missus, you wouldn't get no answers." Pointed out Rio, blue eyes meeting her own cinnamon ones. He winked at her, one hand pushing her gun down. Amazingly, she let him. "Answers is what you want, missus."

"Stop talking like you know me." Ordered Hawkeye, strapping her gun back in place. She was very lost, since the strange man obviously knew more than what he was letting on. The woman decided to play along, eyes narrowing. "And what answers would that be? Mind telling?"

"I would mind, missus." Answered Rio, in a slightly sing-song voice. "If you had all the answers, you would have seen the Truth." Liza blinked. Truth? He made it sound like more than a simple word. The blond sharpshooter shifted her weight, mind working quickly.

"The Truth?" Hawkeye questioned, staring at Rio, awaiting an answer. Rio simply gave another charming smile and tapped his top hat, blue eyes watching her carefully. Liza had a very good idea that he was toying with her, something she definitely didn't appreciate. "What is the Truth?"

"To know the Truth, you have to see the Truth, missus." Cerulean eyes danced, while Rio stood up extending a hand to the still-seated Liza. She ignored it, getting up own her own. Tired of playing this game, she gave a frustrated sigh and began to head in the direction of what she assumed to be her motel. To her annoyance, Rio followed.

"Where is the Truth? How do I find it?" Asked Liza, finally breaking the silence as her curiosity getting the better of her. To the woman who'd known several alchemists over the years, 'Truth' sounded like some sort of alchemy thing. She could even remember Edward mentioning it once and a while, and that boy was _always _talking of the mystical science.

And their killer used alchemy. In her opinion, the man next to was giving her answers, no matter how perplexing they were. She stood there patiently as Rio answered, though it didn't do her much good. "The Truth is everyone you look, missus. To find it, you just have to pay attention. Right-o, missus? You got that, missus?"

"Of course I do." Replied the frustrated blond, who's normally calm temper was flaring up as she spoke with Rio Samuels. If that was his real name. "But it doesn't help me." At this moment she looked around, and noticed with a thankful sigh that she was on Peach Street, on which her and Roy's hotel was located.

"It helps you, or I wouldn't have told you, missus." Rio and Liza made down the street, coming to a stop in front of the motel. The man turned to his companion, yet another charming smile gracing his face, making the dirty and stubble covered thing rather pleasant to look at. "Good bye for now, missus."

"What-" Before Liza could continue her sentence, Rio was gone. She blinked. The woman knew people who could move fast, plenty of them. But the speed which the stranger-man had used to disappear was uncanny, and this frightened the sharpshooter.

"Liza?" A tired looking Mustang stuck his head out out of the second-floor window, dark hair ruffled from sleep and onyx eyes bleary. Liza smiled softly despite her odd encounter with Rio, giving a nod of acknowledgment to Roy. It had been along time since she'd seen the professional Colonel look unkempt. The last time was during the Ishvarlan Rebellion, after they had 'won'. He'd drank himself unconscious from guilt.

"Crazy men and their guilt trips." She murmured, climbing the uneven steps of the hotel. She had decided to push her encounter with the mysterious Rio Samuels to brew until later. So that was how, as she entered their room, the only thing on her mind was a good ol' bath in the large, claw-footed tub that had sat there so long the feet had left permanent imprints on the floor.

"Find anything?" Questioned Mustang, rubbing one of his eyes in a tired motion. The last part of his sentence was caught up in a yawn. The man looked like he needed a lot more sleep. Upon advising this to him, he only snorted and mumbled something about secretive woman.

"I'm going to take a bath then catch some sleep. Don't peek." Liza felt rather immature, telling her commanding officer to not spy on her while she was naked, but of course the woman couldn't help but to be a tad paranoid.

Although she had a hinting suspicion that Roy Mustang wouldn't just peek on females, if you get her drift...

_**X.O.X.O.X**_

He slipped down a small side street, that was a slimy muck of an alleyway more than anything else. His eyes surveyed the buildings on either side, before going back to the mouth of the alleyway. In three minutes, his prey would walk bye.

He had been following both of them at once, but depressingly, the day he'd killed the first one was the only day the other had stayed late at the stripper place. It was so troublesome when his victims didn't cooperate. It made him mad. Made enough to _kill_.

Ohoho, the pretty little thing was going to regret making him angry. He would make sure her death was _very_ painful. It would teach the little slut to mess with his schedule. Couldn't the world just work with him, after all? The only thing he wanted was to kill off those miserable bitches.

The sound of heels clacking on cobblestones brought his mind back to the current situation. An evil grin spread on his face, teeth glinting in the poor light. His prey was right on time, walking home just as the sun began to set.

The alchemist crept to the opening of the alley, eyes resting on the swaying figure that was making her sloppy way home. His nose crinkled in disgust. She was drunk. And knowing how these sluts were, on some type of pleasure drug.

As she passed by, too inebriated to notice him, one of his strong arms snaked out, quick as a flash, and snagged her. A loud cry of protest came from her mouth, and he silenced her with one hand over her lips. She made muffled noises, but he ignored them, bringing her deeper into the shadows of the alley.

If one were to look at his hands, they'd see the intricate alchemy array that begin at his wrist and made it's winding way over his entire hand, ending at the tips of his fingers. So many were the runes, lines and other parts of the transmutation circle that it covered much of his skin.

The odd part was how the circle hand been put on his hand. Instead of a tattoo, like most alchemists leaned towards when applying it, his were scars. Old, white scars, made from repeatedly slicing his flesh with a blade. All for the sole purpose of murdering the strippers.

She was doing her best to fight him off, but her intoxication level was too high to get any kind of muscular coordination and strength. He watched her pretty little face. Ooh. She was crying. How pathetic. As his scars lit up with the bright shine of alchemy, he sneered into the tear-streaked face in front of him.

As her screams began to cry out, barely audible thanks to the fist shoved into her mouth, he only continued to sneer in hatred. Blood began to poor from her eyes, which had rolled backwards into her head. The red substance came out of her ears, nostrils, and even more from her eyes. It delighted him to see it run down her once pretty face.

Her skin began to bubble, like hideous sores, twisting her body beyond recognition. Then, one by one, they began to implode, and more blood coursed down her body. She had finished screaming, and moving in general, noted the man.

He let her drop, taking a moment to relax. Then he picked up the crimson-soaked corpse, throwing it over his shoulder with practiced ease. As he took off into the darkness, he said his first words the entire killing. "That was too easy..."

_**X.O.X.O.X**_

_**Whaddya think? Ooh...yah...I LOVE WRITING RIO! Next chapter: more Rio, double pole-dancing and much more! Also, I'll be getting off my lazy ass and actually writing the next update for TPAAPK, and Milestones. Not Genders Are So Troublesome, sadly. I have the entire thing typed up in a place I can't reach, and I really liked the chapter which I can't recreate.**_


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